| interference
pattern
sun hitting water i'm in front of. reflection heating
my face like fire from a barrel.
i climbed mt. david today, looked over the city, shot
short snippets of video;
sky through
leaves, windchimes, moire patterns on chain-link fences.
i need my mind to constantly be humming, aware, processing
happiness,
processing
warm september days where i feel a time seep in, not just
go by.
a video trace up into sky/ switch scenes, a different
sky
down into something
earthly. a tree branch, a slim city building.
"the lightplay scattered from the motion of two overlapping
structures."
i shoot myself
giving up inside, i shoot myself on this rock on this
river.
monologuing "it doesn't matter what i do." monologuing
"only how i feel about it."
LOOK
UP MORE
the
delectable bookstore ROMP 1/2 queasy
scanning for perfect faces (my perfect
not the worlds' perfect) through 18 miles of books.
all i do is read people reading me, not books.
the
SPECTACLE mirror-streets, traffic crouched at every
corner, waiting barely, breathing heavy to hit you.
INSIDE
the city there is a grace in which i move;
an oscillating tube of ambient noise and color in-the-corner-of-my-eye.
i tremble through, chatting, thinking,
dropping behind,
looking up.
environments
HERE are all temperature controlled,
sealed or forbidden to open. people sit on stairs in the
square
just to be a part of whatever happens next. someone break
dances, plays a guitar, turns on a radio.
there is tension everywhere. the super-involved conversations
happen around me, flowing a little too well.
people
HERE are looking for a Sex in the City love
which describes their paranoia perfectly.
apartments are boxy and spare with
books on dating that schizoid the human race into
childhood and post-childhood vats of need.
it's
not all fake. the man JUST standing there beneath
the construction scaffolding with an odor ringing 20 feet
around him.
it's not all real. he's at the center of that odor
trying hard not to think badly about me.
rare
earth materials under china, buildings
that collapse in on themselves. men at the edge
of a volcano fissure, recording the churning lava with
cellphones.
me fighting with myself all the time to drink water
as if it wasn't vital to me. reductionist chi.
'the propagation of light.'
-j.
kendall 10/9/10
|
